


Twins are Dangerous: Jeralt

by theflyingpan



Series: Twins_Are_Dangerous_AU [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Jeralt is terrible with naming, No Smut, Spoilers For The Entire Game, Twin Byleths, Twins_Are_Dangerous AU, and
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-25 00:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflyingpan/pseuds/theflyingpan
Summary: “One, two. Two, one. Boy, Girl. He had both of them, neither of them were left behind.”((No ships here, but you could kinda read it as Byleth and Claude?))((also Jeralt is terrible at names pass it on))





	Twins are Dangerous: Jeralt

When Jeralt first saw them, he was confused. No-one had ever mentioned twins, and he and his wife only choose one name. He thought of the horses he had over the years, with names such as ‘Horse’, ‘Horse 2’, ’Jeralt jr.’<strike>(joke that went downhill fast)</strike>, and Rea<strike> (less of a joke, more of a prayer)</strike>, silently cursing his luck.

((He decided that the same name made just as much sense as it didn’t; a decision fueled by grief and by his inability to give his daughter the same name as his beloved.))

* * *

When Jeralt burned the nursery and escaped Garreg Mach, he felt a cold shiver down his back. Far enough away from the Knights, but close enough to use the light of the fires, he checked the bundle in his arms. One, two. Two, one. Boy, Girl. He had both of them, neither of them were left behind. He let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding before re-wrapping the bundles and holding it close to his chest. Byleth, they _will_ be safe. He jerked the reigns and his horse began to continue it’s run, away from the Monastery— away from Lady Rhea.

((Something small in his brain told him that he couldn’t get away for too long. He had hoped it would be wrong.))

* * *

When Jeralt awoke the third time in one night, not ten minutes since he last closed his eyes, he realized something. While he was sure that the infants were identical (and they were; they had the same stoic eyes, same messy hair, and same lack-of-heartbeat), he noticed that the girl was more verbal than her brother— and more needy. He was relieved as he lifted the crying girl into his arms— at least one was normal. But when he checked, he realized she was perfectly fine; no messy diaper, no hunger, not too hot or too cold. He stared at his daughter, still crying, trying to find out what was wrong. Then he spared a glance back to the crib. His son was awake, wiggling and reaching for the discard bottle Jeralt had heated up for his sister, glaring at the bottle and silent as ever. Jeralt looked between the two before setting down his daughter, trading infants and giving his son the bottle. No sooner had he done this, the boy start drinking, and the girl quieted down. Jeralt laughed. It was going to be a long night. He eventually took back what he said about one being ‘normal’ when he thought about the situation more critically; it wasn’t normal to cry for her brother’s needs and never for her own.

((Byleth always prided himself on his sister’s well being, claiming he did just as good a job keeping her safe from enemies and potential suitors as his dad. Jeralt never found it in his heart to correct his son; after all, it was his daughter who _always_ thought of her brother’s safety))

* * *

When Jeralt heard his name, early one foggy morning, he was surprised when none of his subordinates were looking at him. They all seemed preoccupied; cleaning up their camp, finishing breakfast, tending to the horses. He frowned as he heard his name again, looking around the camp for the sound. It wasn’t until he felt the soft tugging of his cape that he thought to look down. Byleth, both of them, stared up at him, dressed and ready to get going well before his company (a habit that will soon disappear when they got older). He returned their blank stares with a stare of his own, waiting a couple of minutes before his daughter opened her mouth again.  
“…Jeralt…?” Her face became blurry, and Jeralt scooped the two up in a tight hug. It didn’t matter that he only heard _one_ of his kids speak, Byleth seemed to talk enough for her and her brother.

((Admittedly, she still didn’t talk much, and she preferred the peaceful silence the three shared when traveling together by horseback.))

* * *

When Jeralt finally heard his son speak, he didn’t stumble over his words like his sister. Jeralt and his company of mercenaries were trying to get their pay, but the stuck up noble refused to pay them on the grounds that the mercenaries had “_taken on the job without expecting anything in return_”; After all, “that's what the Knights of Seiros do.” Jeralt’s patience was wearing thin, and the years of taking care of children had worn it down to the point of giving up. He was about to turn to his crew when a voice cut through the room.  
“Lawrence wouldn’t have wanted anything in return” Everyone, including his sister, turned to face Byleth, who was sitting on a table, idly playing with his sword. “Lawrence would’ve been happy to just see a grateful smile and take a warm handshake” Cold eyes shot up and pierced through the Noble, who was getting fidgety. Byleth hopped down the table and strode over to stand next to his dad, suddenly seeming more mature than his age would suggest. “His corpse is still warm, in that cave, _mister_” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I would go now if you intend on repaying him with a handshake. But Lawrence fell early in the battle, his body must be _soaked_ in blood by now.”  
Jeralt walked out of the building richer and with his son on his shoulders, holding his daughter’s hand. He couldn’t help but feel proud of his son for taking on the noble, but he also couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling in his gut. Cake helped sole one of those issues.

((Later, he allowed himself to blame the sinking feeling on too much sugar and alcohol. Even later he realized the nickname “Ashen Demon” gave the feeling a name: _fear_.))

* * *

When Jeralt stared at the backs of the twins, he could start to see a distinct difference. Despite being not three minutes apart (if Lady Rea’s information could be trusted), his son was starting to slowly grow taller than his sister. Not that it mattered, he still would have trouble telling the two apart. The twins in question were staring into a store, and while they attempted to be sneaky about it, one of Jeralt’s companions snickered and pointed him in their direction. They were staring at a dagger set, the matching blue handles nearly glowing. When he approached, the two dropped their hands away from the window and turned to him in eerie sync, staring at him with stoic eyes and attempting to hide their interest.  
“You two want something?” Jeralt asked with a chuckle, kneeling down so they were just above eye level. The twins glanced at each other, having an entire conversation that Jeralt couldn’t hear before looking back at him and shaking their heads.  
“N-no thank you..we’re okay” Byleth mumbled, her voice getting smaller as she finished her sentence. Jeralt gave them a hard stare before standing and walking inside the store.  
“Excuse me?? How much for the blue dagger set?” He called out, smiling as the twins run in after him. They hardly desired anything other than the necessities, and while a dagger is hardly a gift suitable for their ages (he was expecting toys, or books, perhaps even some clothing), it just proved that the twins were really his children.

((Later, when he draped a blanket over the two, he smiled warmly at his kids. They were clutching the daggers like dolls.))

* * *

When Jeralt had his first proper heart attack, it was in the dead of night. He was woken by shaking hands gripping his shirt and a sharp whispering of his name. He jolted awake and sat up, nearly sending his son tumbling to the ground.  
”Byleth..?” Jeralt just managed to catch him before his head collided with the floor. “What on earth is the matter son?? Now is no time to be awake”. Jeralt nearly mistook the shaking hands and pale face for another night terror, of a battle long ago or of a time he wasn’t fast enough to save someone, before Byleth pointed to his sister in their shared bed. Carrying him, Jeralt took two long strides over to inspect the bed. Byleth had her eyes squeezed shut, perhaps unaware of her brother and father’s eyes, curled up around her stomach. The bedsheets were torn off, and before Jeralt could ask what the heavens was the matter, he saw it. A dark stain had seeped into the sheets under his daughter, and he heard a soft whimper escape her lips.  
He felt bad, awaking the mother they were staying with, but after being forced to wash blood soaked sheets as his daughter learned about her body was punishment enough. As well as the realization that his kids were getting old <strike>along with himself</strike>.  
Luckily, he was able to briefly disclose to his son what he was bound to go through as well with half the embarrassment.

((Thankfully, he was never woken up with that much urgency again, even when Byleth woke up to find a town they were staying in being burned by _pirates_. Jeralt was always surprised at how quickly the two because independent))

* * *

When Jeralt woke Byleth for the last time as a mercenary, he was more than a bit annoyed at the two. His son managed to sneak his sword into bed (along with the small dagger he never let leave his person for more than three seconds), and was also clinging to his sister in a way that made her face scrunch up in discomfort, which meant she would have a harder time in any battles they found themselves in due to his clinging. His daughter, despite that discomfort, was still wearing her full body armor (which, to his pain, still drew the unwanted attention of young men when they walked into town), and had managed to get blood on the sheets (thankfully, from the injury on her back, not anywhere else), which meant they would have to stay behind long enough to wash the borrowed bedding.  
“Come on you two, get up” Jeralt sighed and shook his kids. He barely got a response, and was just heading out to get the cold water when he heard a sharp gasp. Turning back, he saw Byleth sitting up, chest heaving and clutching the sword in an aggressive manner. His sister was also awake, but had curled up on her side and was just as pale.  
“Well good morning to you two, sleep well?” Jeralt half joked, walking back to his kids. “Same dreams? Who had which one this time?”  
“I…i was with some…_child_” Byleth nearly spat, frowning at the memory as he tossed the rest of the sheets aside to get dressed. His sister slowly sat up, clutching her abdomen.  
“…I was on…on a battle, battlefield” She whispered. Jeralt nodded and patted her back, looking towards his son.  
“I remember those, tough when they get swapped huh? I’d think you’d fare better with a _child_ than a battlefield son.” He smirked a bit and helped his kids get ready. Jeralt decided to ignore his son’s snort. “Anyway, be ready to leave at daybreak.” Jeralt decided to _not_ ignore his kids' groans. “Oh come on, everyone else is already ready.”  
“Captain!” One of his subordinates rushed in, not bothering to knock. Jeralt sighed a bit and thanked the goddess that it was his son changing and not his daughter this time before walking over to find the source of the urgency(that was a bad habit his crew managed to drop pretty quickly, especially when puberty hit. Although Jeralt could never figure out how they knew to knock for his daughter and not for his son).  
Of course it had to be kids. _Noble_ kids. Despite his dreams, Byleth didn’t seem to be annoyed at the students in front of him, regarding them with cold eyes. His daughter was still shaken up, but tried to not let it show as the kids pleaded for help with bandits.  
“Wait a second…those uniforms..” Jeralt connected the dots a beat too late, and soon he was on his way back to Garreg Mach, Alois roping him into another long winded story as the twins entertained the three noble brats.

((When he looked back at his kids, Jeralt couldn’t help but wonder what could have been, if he never left, as the kids entertained the chance to interact with people near their age.))

* * *

When Jeralt saw Rhea again, he felt a cold shiver run down his back, not unlike the one he felt as he fled with his kids all those years ago. He stood between his children, having whispered words to the two of them about distrust and caution, as the Archbishop stood in front of him— the smile on her face not quite reaching his eyes (his hands twitched at his side, and he fought the urge to take his kids and run again). He couldn’t help the smirk that slipped out when Seteth demand respect for Lady Rhea from Byleth, and only barely remembered to feel bad for his poor daughter for having to speak to strangers (dangerous strangers, if Rhea’s fierce eyes were anything to go by). The chuckle he forced when speaking to Rhea was half genuine; Seteth’s face when he learned the twins’ name was entertaining to a point.

((“Well,” The mercenary chuckled thinly, scratching the back of his head. “Their mother decided on it, and we weren’t expecting twins.”))

* * *

When Jeralt heard Rhea offer his kids a teaching position, he did not expect them to have their first argument about it. Sure, the twins argued before: on battlefields when Byleth took an arrow for his sister instead of deflecting (she had armor for a reason), in town where Byleth didn’t brush off the advances of a young male who was deemed nothing more than a skirt chaser (she still had a hard time reading the room), on the road when the two discussed battle tactics (his son enjoyed routing enemies while his daughter preferred to defeat commanders). But their first serious argument was over a group of nobles (bratty nobles, Jeralt thought bitterly, when he remembered all the kids who starred as the three walked around the Monastery).  
“That’s **enough**!” He suddenly declared, raising his voice enough to quiet the two. Byleth’s argument died in her mouth, and her brother’s hands slowly moved from his dagger. “Since you two won’t stop arguing, maybe _neither_ of you should teach the Blue Lion House” Jeralt rubbed his face, and the two shared a look.  
“Sorry Jeralt” Two voices said at once, melding into a voice so familiar yet so far away(he always heard echoes of her voice when the twins synched up, and sometimes he sees her in their faces when they stare up at him). Jeralt smiled behind his hand; he could never stay mad at them for too long.

((He gave that Dimitri boy a good look over. He couldn't see any reason why the twins were so passionate to watch over him or his class. But he did see a good fighting spirit in those blue eyes.))

* * *

When Jeralt thought about it, he couldn’t find it in himself to stay mad at Alois for long. Sure, he was dragged back to the Knights of Serios, and to Rhea—and his kids were as well(he had escaped for a reason). But, looking at the events that took place over the months, Jeralt had to admit that he was proud of his kids. They were growing faster than he ever expected they would on a battlefield as mercenaries, and they were making lifelong connections while doing so. He sat up in bed, and searched his room for a pair of identical wedding bands. He laid back in bed holding him, thinking of his late wife with a tired smile.

((He decided to give the two rings to his two kids, despite the sting it felt when he took his ring off for the first time in years. But he was back at the monastery, might as well make the best of things and take some time to visit her))

* * *

When Jeralt had first laid eyes upon her, he fell for her so hard he couldn’t breathe. As he saw her again <strike>(for his last time)</strike>, he felt that same suffocating feeling—this time punctuated by the two people flanking his sides.  
“This is where your mother…well…she’s resting here” Jeralt sighed, running a hand over his tired face. Like his daughter, he wasn’t one for eloquent words— that was his wife’s, and his son’s, specialty. He spared a glance at both kids, but they were silent, just as the day he stole them away. “There’s still so much to tell you” Jeralt shook his head, breaking the silence. “But first we should finish that mission for Rea”. He clapped a hand on both of his kid’s backs, smiling at them. “Just know, that she’s proud of you, and loves you _very_ much”

((He later remembered the rings, and told them he wanted each of them to find someone special to spend their lives with. He even risked mentioning a wedding and children, and was relieved when Byleth finally reacted with disgust, and his sister with a panicked face— enjoying their reactions. They had been stoic for too long))

* * *

When Jeralt felt the warm drops hit his face, he was suddenly hit with the realization that he was dying. He could barely see his son’s face, his vision blurring due to his wound; and his daughter’s cries were muffled, sounding so far away. He remembered a student, a dagger, and a cry that rang in his ears too late. He took a shuddering breath, before steeling himself for what had to be done next.  
“Byleth…” He sighed out, feeling cold. Two sets of eyes snapped up and stared at his face, sorrowful faces hiding behind a thin mask of seriousness. He smiled. “Looks like I have to leave you now…” The warm drops returned, and he could vaguely see his son shaking. He forced a chuckle. “To think, this is the first time you cried for yourself” He cupped his son’s cheek, and patted his daughter’s head with the last of his energy. “Thank you, kids…_Byleth_…” He smiled and closed his eyes for the last time, hearing his name echo as the darkness took hold of him.

((Byleth screamed his dad’s name till his throat was sore, and for the first time in a long time, Byleth had no tears left in her body to cry))

* * *

When Jeralt saw them again, he was confused by their changes. Their hair was a pale green, matching their new eyes. Though he grew to hate the color green in his youth <strike>(the color looked especially heartbreaking when he heard of the Church’s actions as a mercenary)</strike>, he couldn’t help but smile brightly at his kids. Their faces were no longer sunken with loss of sleep or tears, and they finally stopped sneaking out of their rooms to sleep with him (though he did have to admit, it was somewhat worth it to see a knight freak out at the sudden appearance of two figures sleeping in a graveyard). Byleth was speaking to him, although he couldn’t exactly hear what she was saying, he noticed she didn’t stutter or pause. Her brother was by her side, holding her hand and smiling in a sincere way, his cheshire grin nowhere in sight <strike>(although he knew Byleth still wore it when wandering the monastery with a certain bratty noble)</strike>. When they turned to leave, he heard his name. He knew the voice— he heard echos of it when the twins spoke. He turned and saw her, standing behind him, smiling at her children.  
“They looked better with blue hair” Jeralt half joked, tears in his eyes as he took in the ghost of his wife (although he was sure he looked no better off, just as ethereal and pale). He approached her only to get a short smack on his cheek.  
“I cannot believe you named them _both_ Byleth” His wife sighed, a playful smile on her face, the same kind he watched grow on a certain, fine young man. Jeralt returned it with a soft smile of his own (unaware that it mirrored a certain young woman).  
“You know I’m terrible with names” He laced his fingers between hers, and looked at the backs of his— their kids, as they walked up the small flight of stairs. Together, they saw Byleth wave over a figure, and a familiar hand clapping his back. Byleth waved shyly, and she was also joined by a figure unseen to their ethereal eyes. Jeralt smiled, and turned to his wife. “So now what?” She snorted a bit.  
“We wait for them to join us, I suppose. I’ve been waiting for you this entire time” Jeralt pondered this.  
“Sounds too morbid, I have some friends we can search for instead” He smiled at her concerned face. “I’m sure they won’t disappear on us if we leave for a bit” And although they didn’t leave right away, Jeralt and his wife were not around to see the betrayal that shook his daughter to the core, the downfall of the Church that nearly broke his son, or the fall that took five years to recover from. Still, Jeralt had confidence in his kids, in _Byleth_. They were strong enough to bounce back.

* * *

When Jeralt turned to his wife, the ghost who had haunted him his entire waking life, he was entertaining an idea that never failed to bring a smile on his face.  
“Do you think they’ll bear children one day?” His wife hummed at this, putting a hand under her chin (a habit that both Byleth’s picked up, despite never meeting her).  
“Most likely, but I imagine twins skip and affect the next generation” She returned, looking at him. But Jeralt was far away, thinking of burning buildings, of a crying child, of a pair of stoic eyes staring at him, of sword practice and training, first words and first sentences, presents and small smiles chasing him around campfires.  
“Probably for the best” he sighed, as a warmth filled his chest “_Twins are Dangerous_”.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like it! Dedicated to my sister, who dragged me around town searching for the game the day of the release, then dragged me deep into the Fire Emblem Three Houses fandom


End file.
